


Only This Moment

by CupidStrikes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Do not read if you haven't played through Chapter 13, Hurt/Comfort, Improper use of a Magitek prosthetic, M/M, Major late game spoilers, Mild Claustrophobia, handjobs, mentions of violence and injury, minor mentions of mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9987083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupidStrikes/pseuds/CupidStrikes
Summary: It is entirely selfish, and entirely irresponsible, but Ravus knows it won't be long now, and he wants to clutch this moment to his chest for just a while more so that he can at least have one thing that he could call his own; one thing that the Empire, that fate, couldn't take from him as well.





	1. Singing You Songs of Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS THROUGH THIRTEEN AND BEYOND, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**
> 
> For the Kinkmeme prompt:
> 
> Two prisoners of Nifflheim in one prison cell.   
> Ravus awaits sentencing, Prompto is resting after torture. They are both lost in despair, but trying to support each other despite lack of any hope.
> 
> Prompto is almost broken after Noctis' words on train, scared of his fate and his dangerous neighbor. But as always he hides his insecurities under the mask of cheerful optimistic guy. Even if this mask covered in blood and fresh scars.  
> Ravus is fed up with everything. He has MT arm and Regis' sword, but he doesn't fight back, because there is nothing to fight for. He just want to spent the last hours of his life in sleep, but someone pushed this trembling blonde boy in his cage and Ravus' natural instincts of overprotective big brother can't afford to ignore poor kid. "
> 
> Ravus/Prompto is an odd soft spot of mine and this ticked all my boxes. Lyrics from 'Children of the Sun' by Poets of the Fall.

Part One: Singing You Songs of Tomorrow

 

 _Like running with a knife_  
_The thought steals away with your peace_  
 _And high on that trapeze_  
 _You hold on to me._

 

Ravus is halfway to sleep when the click-clicking of the cell door's multiple locks wakes him. The godawful screech of the hinges as the door is opened resigns him to another hour of careful meditation in the hope of dreamless sleep, and Ravus slowly opens one eye once the noise ceases, watching the thin beams from the naked lightbulb creep into the grey metal of the cell. His white coat is filthy in the light, the metal of his arm dull and pock-marked from debris, magic, and for a moment Ravus feels like he's been plunged underwater; the Magitek joints haven't worked properly since Altissia; the inner mechanisms water-logged, and one of the plates bent into where his elbow once was. Ravus notices it now, and the ghost of pain up a bone no longer there is what draws him back into the present in time to watch a scrawny boy be shoved into the room.

 

The door whines shut again leaving Ravus alone with the boy.

 

As his eyes adjust once more to the semi-darkness, Ravus realises that his companion is no boy but a young man, oddly familiar, and when he scrambles to his feet he realises it is one of Prince Noctis's companions, and Ravus is quite sure now that some god somewhere is having a good laugh at his expense. His cellmate twitches, belying consciousness, and slowly scrabbles to his hands and knees, his head flicking from side to side before halting, and Ravus sees a the barest shadow of his head in the darkness, and fancies the faint reflection of eyes staring his way.

 

“Who's there?”

 

Ravus is content to pretend to not exist or feign unconsciousness, when a hand reaches out and grasps his knee, upsetting a forgotten cut, and the hiss of pain is already halfway between his teeth before Ravus can try to stop it. The hand stays, fingers flexing briefly before moving up his thigh and up to where his metal arm is resting in his lap.

 

He feels the precise second where those fingers touch the metal, and there is silence for a pause more before he hears the other man scramble away from him. A thud and a gasp, and Ravus closes his eyes as he listens to the litany of curses coming from across the cell. He ignores it, succeeding rather well, until the words grow less and less coherent, voice wavering, and when the first muffled sniffle reaches his ears, Ravus is halfway across the cell before he even realises he's moved, and for a moment he chokes on the scent of Sylleblossoms and he's back in Tenebrae again, holding Luna as he dabs the blood off her skinned knees. He doesn't remember what events had led to it, just the moment itself and the pitiful noises that made his chest ache.

 

Coming back to himself, the noises are more stifled, and Ravus takes the last foot slowly, not so much sliding but falling to his knees and it doesn't matter in the dark, but he's holding his hand – the flesh and blood one – out to the boy, brushing up against his shoulder, and Ravus brings him against his chest. Curling his right arm around to cradle the back of his head, he uses the flat inside of his left arm to manoeuvre the lithe, light body towards his own.

 

“Don't cry.”

 

His voice is thin, unfamiliar to himself, and Ravus swallows a cough down his dry throat to repeat the words, closing his eyes when he feels the boy rest against him. The back of his head is sticky, parts of his hair matted and rough against Ravus's fingers and he wishes now for enough light to assess the damage done to him. He has witnessed Niflheim torture, been the subject of it once, but Ardyn is involved here and that thought alone draws a shudder down his spine and into the pit of his stomach.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Ravus doesn't cough around this sentence, takes it as a small victory, and he adjusts his position on the floor as his calves begin to tingle with the threat of numbness, but in his arms the boy shifts and trembles, and it is forgotten. He's struck a sore chord, and he patiently waits through the heaving breaths until finally he receives a reply;

 

“....Noct threw me off the train.”

 

Sabotage? Not likely.

 

“You're sure?”

 

He twists in Ravus's arms, and he fumbles to keep hold of the smaller man and not drop him onto the floor.

 

“Of course I'm sure! He....it was like he didn't recognise me at all.”

 

Ravus knows of illusions, knows them well.

 

“He likely didn't. The High Chancellor is a man of many faces.”

 

“Doesn't change the way Noct looked at me, nor the rest of it.”

 

He knows of this, too, and for a long moment the words fail him. He listens to their breathing and counts a minute before licking his dry lips and opening his mouth.

 

“Then you will have to wait for him to come and apologise.”

 

The Prince will come, of that Ravus is sure, he'll come for the man in his arms, and that thought carries Ravus the last few steps out of the realm of sleep.

 

“You must be Prompto.”

 

He remembers, now, a photo that Luna had shown him once, the day that he had found out about Umbra and the notebook. He recalled the names, just barely, of the Prince's Shield and advisor, their builds, leaving the smaller, scrawnier blond man, and...

 

“You looked after my sister's dog.”

 

The thought is ridiculous, and it drags a soft laugh out of Ravus that quickly has him coughing in the dusty air.

 

“You're Pryna's mysterious saviour.”

 

He wonders, absently, as he stares at what little he can make out of the other man in the darkness, if Lunafreya had some sort of hand in this, what she would make of it, and Ravus knows then that he has one last task whilst he still draws breath, one that will have to take priority over delivering King Regis's sword to Noctis:

 

He needs to get this young man out of Zegnautus, out of Niflheim entirely, at all costs.

 


	2. Dawn will follow/All our sorrows undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the softcore porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from 'Only This Moment' by Royksopp, the fic namer and a rather fitting song...
> 
> I don't think this is exactly what the OP wanted (I am weak to the tangents) so I will likely follow with a (smuttier) kind of maybe canon/not canon to this fic standalone piece because there is not enough Promvus.

_Only this moment_

_Holds us together._

_Close to perfection._

 

Ravus knows the inside of Zegnautus Keep well, patrols, MT jamming protocols, the lot, but Prompto is an unpredictable variable. The younger man is still curled up in his lap, leant against his chest, and Ravus would think him asleep were it not for the occasional vocal response to his mutterings. It's mostly just hums, or grunts of disagreement, but it's feedback, at least.

 

He isn't sure how many patrols there will be now, with Iedolas dead (or worse), and two prisoners, and the imminent arrival of the prince. They could wait for them to arrive, but there is a meantime he can't account for and Ravus has a feeling that any good fortune he might have once had has long dried up or deserted him. He is silent long enough that Prompto makes an inquisitive sound, and he shakes his head.

 

“I apologise.”

 

Ravus says at length, adjusting his arm around Prompto as the man moves in his hold.

 

“For my part in this.”

 

Perhaps if he had trusted Lunafreya's words sooner things might have turned out differently. He found his thoughts turning to regret more often than not these days, since Altissia.

 

“S'okay. I would've been alone here otherwise.”

 

Prompto's voice is quiet enough that for a moment Ravus doesn't hear it over his own thoughts and the incessant beating of his heart, and he looks down at what he can see of the other man.

 

“Else...you might've been killed before now, or....just wouldn't be here.”

 

“What?”

 

He feels Prompto shrug.

 

“Just...something someone used to say. Everything happens for a reason.”

 

Ravus is oddly comforted by that.

 

“Well, then, for what it is worth, I am glad of your company in this moment.”

 

Prompto makes a soft noise, and it takes Ravus a second to realise that he's laughing.

 

“Did I say something funny?”

 

“No, no,” he's trying to stifle himself, “You're just....Geez,”

 

Prompto leans up until Ravus can feel a whisper of breath on his chin, and he opens his mouth to ask the young man what he is doing, when Prompto leans in and kisses him.

 

He's shocked into silence and stillness for several long seconds as he feels Prompto's mouth move against his, and just as he begins to pull away, Ravus surges forward and kisses him back. Bracing his Magitek arm against Prompto's back, he touches his face with his bare fingers, feeling the soft prickles on Prompto's chin and rougher smears of dirt and blood against the skin of his cheek.

 

“Ravus.”

 

No one has said his name like that in years; Ravus can't recall the last time he was called by his forename alone, in fact, and gods, he is done with this.

 

“I want....Please.”

 

Prompto breaks off and kisses him again, and this time there is no hesitation. Ravus shifts his posture, widening his thighs so that Prompto is straddling him instead, and the moans slip out of his mouth unbidden as he feels Prompto's hands smooth over his chest and delve into his open coat. He shrugs it off and lets the other touch him through the thin material of the shirt beneath.

 

“Anything for you.”

 

He last said those words to Luna, he forgets how many years ago now, on his knees again and clutching her hands tight as she told him of the Prophecy and her part in it, and he feels in control now like he didn't back then, and he whispers those words to Prompto now in a prayer of a promise.

 

“Anything you want, I will do.”

 

And if this is his last act of agency, of defiance, then so be it.

 

Ravus kisses Prompto with renewed vigour, his own hand skirting up the young man's side, feeling each rib as he goes, and he rests it on the back of his neck as he kisses his neck. His hand slides back down, feeling along Prompto's thigh and brushing just faintly over the hard swelling between his legs. Prompto gasps against it, and Ravus can't get his trousers open fast enough.

 

He's done this a handful of times, enough to just about know what he's doing, and when his hand clasps tight around Prompto's flesh, Ravus ceases to regret all of those brief fumbles that had led him to this moment.

 

“ _Ravus._ ”

  
  
He shivers from head to toe, and crowds the blond closer to him with his metal arm, and when Prompto's hands find the catches on his shirt, unbuckle his belt and part the opening n his trousers, Ravus has to grit his teeth against the urge to just come right there and then. He breathes in deep and slow to try and calm his heartbeat and focus over the blood ringing in his ears.

 

One of Prompto's hands comes up and flattens against his metal arm, the frayed nerve-endings picking up the movement and pressure just faintly, like feeling it through several layers. Prompt doesn't yank his hand back from the metal but squeezes it tighter, delicately, as if afraid to hurt him, not an ounce of fear or disgust about him.

 

“Prompto.”

 

“Hm?”

 

He's resting his head on Ravus's shoulder and this should be too intimate but it just feels right instead and Ravus kisses him again. Prompto tastes like blood, mostly, and Ravus is sure he's no better, but at that moment he couldn't care less and it's wonderful nonetheless. His cock is heavy and warm against Ravus's fingers, and he tries to find a steady rhythm between his wrist and the movement of his own hips. It's difficult, though, as there is a tremor still in his hands from exhaustion and the low blood pressure that had plagued him since childhood. If Prompto notices or minds he doesn't voice it, and Ravus allows himself to slip into the moment, and he knows nothing but this man in his arms and those warm hands on his skin, and he is blessed and is blessed in this moment and it's probably weird to be thinking of his sister in a moment like this but if anyone could have orchestrated him this when he knows it like an old injury that he does not deserve this fleeting happiness, there is only one person to bless him and he knows it is Lunafreya, always, always clinging to the idea of good in him somewhere, and Ravus is sorry in that instant that it took him so long and -

 

\- and Prompto arches against him and Ravus kisses him again and mouthes nonsense against his lip that he hopes is comforting to at least one of them, trying to quell the shudders in his own chest as well as his companion's.

  
“I love you.”

 

He murmurs against Prompto's skin like it's true and that it's something they can have in this life, and then they are spilling against each other, a hot, viscous fluid that clings to Ravus's hand even after he wipes it against his trousers, and he hears his words returned between Prompto's gasps of breath and it is enough and it is enough, and Ravus finds sleep then with Prompto's body cradled in his arms, warm and solid against him even as the cold air raises goosebumps on his exposed flesh.

 

* * *

 

Ravus wakes when the cell door clicks and scrapes open, and for a moment he clutches Prompto tight, clenching his jaw. No one is taking this one away from him, and injured and half-crippled as he is he'll fight as long as he has breath in his body and-  
  
\- and Prompto is pulling out of his arms, and pressing one more kiss to his mouth, dry lips against dry lips, and, squinting against the light flooding into the cell, his vision is eclipsed by the smile twisting at Prompto's mouth.

 

“Let's meet again. I'll be waiting.”

 

He clasps Prompto's hand between his own one last time, the metal of his Magitek hand likely cold and sharp, but he pays it no mind, and when Prompto brings his other hand over Ravus's he clutches it over the metal one. Ravus wants to say a few hundreds things to him; pleas, to stay, to be safe, and promises of protection and care, and but all three words fail and perish on his tongue.

 

“It's a promise.”

 

And then Prompto is being dragged out of the cell and Ravus is alone again with the imprint of Prompto looking back at him and smiling burnt into his eyes like a scar, and only the now dry and flaking seed on his skin and the tinnitus of his own name in his ears as proof Prompto was here at all, and it is this that carries him later when they come for him, too, and Ravus surges forward once he is out of the cell.

 

It is a lost battle before it begins, but Ravus strikes down as many rogue MTs as he can, clasping Regis's sword to his side until it becomes necessary to use the blade, and he silently begs the dead king for forgiveness as he staggers back towards the railings that mark the floor boundary. He looks over them at the fathomless drop below, then back at the field of red glowing eyes, and he smiles viciously, hoping that Prompto is far, far away from here and safe with his companions, and he leans back into the air. He won't give Ardyn the satisfaction, and he'll own this, too. He clutches Regis's sword to his chest as he falls into the darkness, the eyes of the Axemen blinking out of existence immediately, and Ravus prays then for the first time in years, to any Astral or God that will listen, that they can see Prompto, the Prince, and all the other innocent lives that Lunafreya had given so much love for, through the Starscourge and beyond, and that, selfishly, he would get to see the little blond man once more.

 

Ravus closes his eyes, adjusts his grip on the sword, and with the memory of Prompto firmly in the forefront of his mind, accepts whatever fate has left to throw at him.

 


End file.
